GERALD came down late to breakfast the following morning when the meal was more than half over. One glance at his face was enough to show Angel that he had not overcome his ill-temper. He muttered a few apologetic words to the effect that he had overslept himself as he took his place at the table, and cast a look of disgust at the rasher of bacon upon his plate. "You have only yourself to blame if your breakfast is cold," his father told him; "I am afraid it is not very appetizing now. If you don't care for the bacon, have some bread and butter and marmalade instead." "I am not hungry," the boy replied, as he sipped his lukewarm coffee; "I don't want any breakfast." "Are you not well?" Mr. Willis asked, with a glance of inquiry at his son's sullen countenance. "Quite well, thank you, father." "Then I am afraid you must have got out of bed the wrong side this morning," Mr. Willis remarked; "you had better change your mind, and eat something, or you will be starving long before dinner-time.—There seems very little hope of the fog clearing," he proceeded, turning his attention to Mr. Bailey; "I believe you will have to content yourself in the house to-day, uncle." "I can do that very well," was the cheerful response. "Shall you be very busy this morning, John, or can you spare me an hour? I want to have a talk with you." "I can give you as much time as you like, uncle, for there will be no light for painting. If you will join me in my studio after breakfast, we shall be quite undisturbed." Mr. Bailey nodded; and as soon as the meal was over followed his nephew from the room. "I wonder what Uncle Edward wants to talk to father about," Gerald exclaimed curiously, the moment he was alone with his sister. "Do you know, Angel?" "No, I haven't the least idea," she replied promptly, "How we shall miss Uncle Edward when he leaves, shan't we?" "You will; you've seen more of him than I have. You're his favourite." "Oh, Gerald, I wish you wouldn't say that!" Angel cried in vexation. "Of course I've seen more of him than you have, because you've been at school all day; but I'm sure he's quite as kind to you as he is to me." "He took you to Wreyford with him, anyway." "You know why that was." "Because he likes you better than me!" Angel made no response. She was deeply pained at her brother's jealous tone, and it was with difficulty she restrained the angry words which trembled on her lips. "I suppose it's about time I started for school," the boy proceeded, "and I'm not perfect in one of my lessons. There'll sure to be a row, and it'll be all your fault, Angel, for being so selfish and disobliging last night."